Where art, infrastructure and imagination converge
By Lisa Richards Toney
Long before stages were built, communities gathered under tents to share stories, celebrate milestones and reimagine what was possible. The tent was never about shelter alone. It was about belonging.
As APAP approaches its 70th anniversary in 2027, I find myself reflecting on how that image continues to describe our field. Each year, we stretch the canvas wider to welcome new voices, new tools and new ways of connecting. But expanding our tent isn’t just about who we invite in. It’s about how we evolve.
The festival as a living model
I was reminded of this on a recent trip to the Festival Internacional Cervantino in Guanajuato, Mexico. The festival model is a living embodiment of civic alignment – a space where art, leadership and community infrastructure come together in full colour.
What struck me most was how visible that alignment was. The city’s leaders attended multiple performances each day, alongside the artists and audiences. The festival’s producer is a government official. Art isn’t positioned as a luxury; as in many UNESCO countries like Mexico, art is a human right.
That integration – the sense that art is for the people, by the people – was palpable. When festivals are done well, they don’t just present performances. They activate civic imagination. They remind us that cultural participation is a form of citizenship.
One performance stayed with me: a searing critique of the Catholic Church told through nudity, ritual and raw emotion. It was uncomfortable, even shocking, but that was the point. Festivals like Cervantino make room for risk by inviting audiences to hold space for complexity, to witness human truth in all its beauty and pain.
In the United States, that space feels like it may become harder to find. Economic pressures, censorship fears and bottom-line thinking can limit work that pushes boundaries. But what happens to our collective conscience if we lose the places where difficult art can exist? The festival model insists that those spaces remain sacred.
Different worlds, shared wisdom
A few weeks earlier, I visited Busan, Korea, not for a festival but for a performing arts market. Yet I saw a similar thread of civic and cultural alignment woven through everything. The mayor’s opening letter described the arts as a bridge between infrastructure and culture.
In Korea, that idea didn’t seem radical, it appeared to be simply understood. The arts and business are not at odds but rather partners in building a whole, balanced society. It’s a yin and yang sensibility: harmony, not competition.
In the US, we spend enormous energy justifying the arts – linking our cause to healthcare, workforce development or GDP growth – so its value is quantifiable in our transactional system. In much of Asia, the value of the arts doesn’t need to be argued. That realisation was both humbling and liberating.
In Mexico, I found another contrast: a culture deeply relational and long-game oriented. Meetings with civic officials began with conversation and hospitality, not deadlines. At first, I was impatient. But over time, I realised they were testing something fundamental: trust.
Both experiences – Mexico’s warmth and Korea’s balance – made me reflect. How would the US field look if we recentred relationship over transaction, and intrinsic value over constant justification? We do our best, but could we do better?
Seeing ourselves in a new light
That’s what I mean by expanding our tent at APAP, a space that has long helped for performing arts professionals to connect, build careers and advance the field. But the tent must grow wider now.
The future of the performing arts depends on how boldly we invite others in – not only new artists and audiences, but also new allies – who understand that art isn’t peripheral. We can no longer think of our work as only “putting something on stage”. We must sustain the conditions that make that possible – cultivating relationships with city planners, housing advocates, public health officials and business leaders who see themselves as cultural stewards too.
The power of invitation
At its heart, expansion begins with invitation. In both Mexico and Korea, I was struck by how powerful it was simply to show up and say, “We see you.”
In Korea especially, our presence carried weight as my visit came just days after an incident involving Korean workers at a US training programme – a reminder of how essential trust remains in global collaboration. Those I met shared their appreciation with me. Despite our differences, the arts remains a place where all are welcome.
That interaction strengthened my resolve. Cultural exchange isn’t just about performance; it affirms belonging in a fractured world. When we extend an authentic invitation – to connect and co-create – we repair more than relationships. We repair the narrative of who we are.
The tent as movement
A tent breathes. It rises with weather, expands with purpose and strengthens with every hand that helps hold it up. Our field is that tent: flexible, dynamic and built to travel.
Each generation expands it further: new leaders, new mediums, new stories, new ways of belonging, new ways of becoming. We must become the next generation of advocates, connectors and cultural architects our time demands – whether that means leading institutions, shaping policy, or (like Tampa, Florida live music club owner Tom DeGeorge) running for city council.
May we continue to widen the circle, to see possibility in new places and leadership in new faces. Because the arts don’t just belong to us. We belong to them. And their future is rising – right here, under this tent.
